


The Justin Diaries

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, M/M, No Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-02
Updated: 2004-02-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 13:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12081957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A series of journal entries by Justin. Post Season 3 and mostly fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Entry 1: 

 

My therapist says I should write down events that make me happy or sad or things I remember from the incident. I guess that’s some good advice, she says its away to help me recover. I guess I made it online because something tells me other’s who’ve had my similar experience would be able to know its okay to talk about it. People don’t think it’s a flaw that you have that made you a victim. I guess I should explain to those of you reading this who know me but haven’t heard the story; I’m not talking about my bashing. I’m happy to say I’m fully recovered from that. And I have Brian to thank for that. No, this is another story entirely about how “Justin Taylor Began Therapy”. For those that have a heard time reading graphic information, you might want to stop reading now.

 

I’ll start from the beginning and skip the back-story. Just know that Brian started his own company and it was thriving, our relationship was stronger than ever and I was readmitted to PIFA after the whole Stockwell mess. Things were starting to look up for Mr. Kinney and I when this whole new obstacle began.

 

It was Friday the 13th, how ironic? I was on my way to class… wait, no because it was Friday I was on a different schedule, so I was in the courtyard with my sketchbook on a stone bench with the blasting melancholy angst of Dashboard Confessional filling my ears through a head set. That’s when he came up.

 

I’d never seen him before. But he was so damn fine. Probably about 6’3 with the most amazing body I’d seen since the Best Bod contest at Babylon. I was in awe but I was faithful to Brian. I wasn’t interested in his fake abs and his overly pretty face. He looked like an Abercrombie model and that type wasn’t for me. So I went back to my drawing and my DC. He took the liberty of sitting down beside me without an invitation to do so. I’ll admit that upon his ass hitting the concrete seat, my heart sped up. Faithful or not, no one ever said anything about flirting being off limits. 

 

“Hey, I’m Nick.” He said in one of those sultry tones that were completely fake and so obvious he was hitting on me.

 

“Justin.” I mumbled, totally turned off now.

 

He moved closer to me and I tensed a little hoping he’d get the hint I was uninterested and back off. He obviously didn’t because he slung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. I didn’t feel good suddenly because I really wasn’t interested, meanwhile mentally cursing the fact that the courtyard was empty and this body builder could pretty much do whatever he pleased and no one could stop him, not even me who was about 100 pounds lighter and 10 inches shorter. 

 

“Don’t tell me a gorgeous boy like you is a straight boy,” He teased, breathing on my neck. Oh I wanted to puke.

 

“Even spaghetti’s straight until you heat it up,” I choked. “I’m queer and taken. I have a partner. We’re exclusive.”

 

So I lied a little. We weren’t but Nick didn’t know that and Brian wasn’t here to dispute that. 

 

“We all have a partner, kiddo,” he sneered.

 

“Well, I love mine and I told you we’re exclusive so I’m not interested.” I snarled and pushed him off, grabbed my shit and started to leave.

 

He grabbed the hood of my shirt and yanked me back so hard I lost my balance and tumbled into his arms. I struggled against him and his massive arms but he threw me down and pinned me. I remember kicking him hard in the stomach but he didn’t waver. The courtyard was empty still as he ripped my jeans open, pulled them off and spun me so that I faced the ground. As my face smashed against the pavement I felt the blood trickle down into my mouth. He slammed against me and his hard cock ripped through my rectum like a serrated knife. And the only sound in the courtyard now was the sound of my own screams. 

 

I remember him finishing his way with me as I lay there in the edge of consciousness and a black abyss of numb that threatened to engulf my entire being. He smacked my ass and kissed my neck leaving me there to pass out, bleed and probably die.

 

“Later Sunshine,” he said sneeringly. 

 

I blacked out.

 

When I woke up in the hospital it was like waking up from the bashing. This time when I came around however, I wasn’t alone. There was someone with me and I expected it to be my mother. But it wasn’t my mother. Sitting beside me was Brian. His hands were clasped tightly to mine and he almost looked like he was praying. His hair was a mess, he had at least three days of a beard grown and he was in his white wife beater and black jeans. In fact, he seemed to care very little about his appearance, which should have told me right there and then that he loved me.

 

“Brian…” I whispered my throat was dry.

 

His head shot up his eyes wide and he looked at me with a mixture of fear and relief. Realizing I probably noticed this he quickly masked it to be calm and cool. 

 

“Heya Sunshine,” he quipped, the name made me shiver. “Welcome back.”

 

“How long was I out?” I smiled a little.

 

“About a week, give or take a day.”

 

“Another coma?”

 

“No, you were just exhausted.”

 

I nodded and he moved to kiss me but I pulled away with panic envisioning Nick and his harsh blows followed by sloppy wet kisses. I heard the heart monitor I was on go ballistic and Brian was trying to calm me down in a very soothing un-Brian like fashion. I realized slowly that this was Brian and not Nick. 

 

When I finally relaxed Brian took me into his arms and held me close against him, my head was resting on his chest as sobs racked my body, like I was a child woken from a nightmare and my memory went back to the many nights he comforted me after the prom. I could hear his heart, steady and strong as it beat in his chest and it helped me to relax. I knew he was there to protect me and would never hurt me.

 

“Hush Justin, you’re okay. Calm down you’ll be alright.” He whispered such things to me over again while rocking my gently like I were Gus. 

 

I sniffled. “I love you,”

 

He smiled and pulled me away to look me in the eyes. He hadn’t really looked me in the eyes this intensely before and for a moment the monitor sped up because I was a mix of frightened and intrigued. He brushed some hair from my face and I think the look on my face must have been some awed affirmation of the words I just spoke because he smiled, kissed my forehead and whispered into my locks of golden hair, as he has described them so often…

 

“I love you too.”

* * *

And these nights I get high just from breathing. When I lie here with you I know that I'm real like that firework over the freeway. I could lie here all day but thats not how you feel. What did I do that you can't seem to want me? And why do we lie here and whisper good byes? And where can I go that your pictures won't haunt me? What makes it so easy for you to be walking by?  
Walking By


	2. The Justin Diaries

Entry 2: 

I kind of like this journal-writing thing so I think I’ll keep it up. And Ruth was right; it does make me feel much better. It really helps to have a venting channel because a lot of times people don’t want to listen to your feelings on tragedy.

I bumped into Ethan today while I was cutting through the music building. I should have figured that it would happen eventually seeing him again after what happened between us. It was awkward but not in the way it was with Brian. With Brian it was awkward because we both still felt the electricity when the other was in the room. With Ethan it was more like broken promises and shattered dreams at my feet, metaphorically speaking, that I felt the need to bring back up just to see if I could wound him the same way he did me, if I hadn’t already, and if I had… I wanted it to be ten times worse.

Funny how sometimes you can be more vindictive than you knew you could be when your heart is ripped out and run over by a proverbial Semi Truck. My friends say that I’ve gotten deeper and more philosophical with age. Life experience sometimes makes you look at things differently. Some people, like myself, analyze and consider the lesson life is teaching. Other’s like Brian make use it as a wall to shield themselves from more hurt, when in reality it just ends up hurting them more. Good thing I have a sledge hammer huh?

Anyway, I got off track there with being philosophical. Now, about the run in with Ethan, as I was saying, I should have expected it since I was on his turf but ya know, I didn’t think about it that much. Just kept going because it was too fucking cold to walk outside. He came out of the practice room we’d met in the Monday after his concert and I just kept walking, I wanted to stop and retreat before he saw me but my feet kept moving. He stopped and we stood there, staring at each other, neither one moving except for our chests as they rose and fell with inhale and exhale of cold hair from the unheated wing. 

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” I replied. Yeah, I felt smooth.

“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry to hear about Justin. I’m glad to see you’re okay.” He sounded very sincere. 

“Thanks.” I forced a smile.

“Look I’m sorry about…”

“Don’t make fake apologies Ethan. It’s over. It was a bad mistake and I realized I’m where I belong now and always belonged. I’m sorry I used you.” I said quickly.

“With Brian?” He said softly.

I nodded. Why lie? What’s the sense in that? Besides, he’d done enough of that for both of us. He nodded too, looking dejected and said something like see ya around or talk to you later or some lame form of not having to say good-bye to protect himself from that searing pain that good bye held. For a minute I felt sorry for him. Only for a minute.

But after my total rejection of “the fiddler” I felt pretty damn good. Sick huh? I felt good about destroying someone else. Sometimes I wonder if they should change my nickname for Sunshine to Black Widow. The reason I wonder that is because I tend to leave former lovers emotionally dead. Okay, where did that darkness come from? This really is a happy entry I promise.

Well, after I left school I really felt the need to get some chocolate. For some reason heartbreak and chocolate go well together, be you the heartbreaker or the heartbreakee, nothing makes you feel good after like chocolate. But my wallet was at home. I went to pit stop at the loft and drop my school shit, change into something cute, cuddly and warm and considered also stopping to rent a movie. It was a Friday after all and I was kind of in the mood for something ridiculously romantic. Though I couldn’t guarantee Brian would feel the same way.

When I got there I was surprised to see the Vette. I worried maybe that Brian had had some trouble at work or his company went bankrupt or something. But then I realized that was really depressing and I was seriously in need of chocolate if this was going to be my mind set for the rest of the evening. As I went in I thought I heard whistling from the loft and sure enough as I opened the door, Brian was whistling and making dinner. I think someone took an alien version of Brian and replaced my Brian with him and real Brian was up in the mother ship being anal probed. I take that back, he’d be doing the probing.  
Damn I’m cynical.

“Heya Sunshine,” The name still made me shiver.

“Hey… why are you home?” I asked quizzically, coming in and setting my shit down.

“I got a big account this morning and thought I’d celebrate with the man in my life.” He said, feeding me some marinara.

“Oh… who?”

“Prada!”

I laughed hysterically. “Oh god, I’ve lost you to discounts on designer.”  
He smirked. “Shut up.”

I sat on the couch after Okaying my sample of marinara and pulled my legs to my chest and watched him with fixation. I’d never seen him cook before, nor had I tasted his cooking before so this was a new experience. I must say I quite liked it. He looked so at ease cooking. Not a thing in the world seemed to bother him while he was in the kitchen. I was almost too romantic and I was trying to snap out of the Brian Watching trance that tends to ensnare all your senses at once. It wasn’t working. 

“I was going to rent a movie,” I said reluctantly getting up and going to the bedroom.

“Sounds good. Dinner will be a little while longer, so why don’t you go get something, your choice and we’ll just have a relax just the two of us night, how’s that sound?”

What the fuck? Where’s the real Brian? But I did as I was told, went to get the movie and some chocolate, I got a couple movies actually. Some really good classics because I’m a sucker for Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe, so I rented Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, My Fair Lady, Seven Year Itch, Niagara (Marilyn was an underrated Dramatist) and No Business Like Show Business. Brian was kind of off standing toward my selections at first.

But we popped in Breakfast at Tiffany’s first and eat our ziti and French bread (why is French bread served with Italian food?) and by dessert and our final movie Roman Holiday, we were wrapped in each other’s arms, laughing and crying and begging Gregory Peck to go back to Audrey Hepburn. We both knew he wouldn’t but we couldn’t help but want him to anyway. 

I was told by Brian back when I was recovering from the bashing that the Prom was the best night of my life. I take that back. This night, with Brian, just us, with old movies, chocolate pasta and tears, us being real, us being a couple, us doing things I never thought it possible for us to do, this was the best night of my life. And in the words of Dashboard Confessional… this is easy as lovers go.


	3. The Justin Diaries

It’s been a few days since my last entry but forgive me because I’ve been uber busy. I promise the entry will be good and make up for the lack of my entries lately. 

It was Sunday morning and Brian and I were out and about, just walking and enjoying the cool, crisp weather of that time where the seasons are changing and winter is gradually making its decent into spring. We were holding hands and smiling and sharing idle chit chat when we came across a little café/bakery with the name scribbled in a mock of a feminine script ‘Tiffany’s”. Brian and I exchanged and a glace, neither of us had eaten and it was just about breakfast time, we’d been up at 5 am to observe the morning as the sun rose because the night before had been an amazing round of sex. We didn’t go to sleep after. 

“What about breakfast at Tiffany’s?” He smirked.

“I think I remember the film and as I recall, I think we both kind of liked it.” I repeated the song from awhile back, not believing I remembered the words.

“Well that’s one thing we got,” Brian finished and opened the door for me as I laughed. 

Breakfast was absolutely amazing. I have never had a craisin apple scone that good in my life. In fact, I’ve never had a craisin apple scone. And their coffee was like twice the gourmet half the price. Brian and I thoroughly enjoyed our food. He had some egg dish that was a house specialty that the owner, Tiffany, had created on a fluke one day. I tried some and it was fantastic. In fact, he was feeding me my scone and occasional forkfuls of his eggs. The proprietor thought we were adorable and gave us some free scones and told us to come back again. Brian declared it would be out Sunday thing. 

We kept walking through the artsy part of town, seeing little venders and shops that were owned by the same family for generations. In the hustle and bustle of a major city like the Pitts, places like this were nice. We happened along a little shop where the owner had a sign in the window saying he was selling some new Golden Retriever pups. I smiled because I’d never had a dog but had always wanted one. 

“Can we go see the puppies?” I begged.

“Justin… don’t get attached we aren’t getting one…” Brian warned.

I promised not to so we went inside and it was a little cardboard box full off about eight puppy’s all whimpering and whining because they wanted to get out. I picked up this really little runt one, who was so adorable with his little paws and tiny nose and how he’d been curled up in a ball in the corner of the box away from his brother’s and sisters. He curled up in my arms immediately and licked my face like I was covered in dog food. 

I know I promised but I fell in love. The puppy was the most adorable thing I’d seen in my entire life, so small and fragile and precious that I couldn’t help it. It bonded to me right away, this little bundle of animal life in my hands, about the size of a female size seven shoe. I gave Brian a pleading look but before I could get a reaction from him to mine the sight of me with the dog made his eyes soft and put a small smile on his face. He looked at the owner of the store, a tired old man who kind of reminded me of a groomed Sean Connery. 

“How much for the dog sir?” He asked.

“That runt? Thirty dollars.” The man snorted.

“Twenty-five.” Brian haggled.

The man sold him the pup for twenty-five dollars and I took him out of the store with glee and loving Brian even more, thanking him over and over, and holding the puppy like it was my newborn son. Brian just laughed and we went off to buy some dog supplies.

“I think you should name him sunshine,” Brian said, putting an arm around me.

“No,” I whispered.

He frowned. “Sorry I forgot.”

I nodded as he kissed my head. I thought on a name for a second.

“Soleil,” I said softly.

Brian smiled. “I like that.”

We ended up at a park with our bags of supplies and Soleil romping in the grass that was just growing back from the winter’s snow cover. He was so cute because he was young and small and not used to everything yet so he took nosedives a lot, but got back up like it was no big deal. It made me think of my mom and her damn story about me trying to ride my two-wheeler.

“Did my mom ever tell you the two-wheeler story?” I asked Brian, knowing the answer.

“YES, never bring it up again!” he groaned.

I laughed and he tickled me. Before I knew it the tickle game became foreplay and the foreplay became sex right there in the park where anyone who happened by could see. But of course we didn’t mind, we were rebels. We were fighting the man and the system. And we loved it. Brian and I were at it for what seemed like hours. We just kept going and going, like the fucking energizer bunny. Literally.

When we were finished he was laying on his back, staring at the sky, with nothing but his pants on. I was lying with my head on his chest and wearing his shirt and my own pants. I listened to the rapid pound of his heart as it was working its way back to normal from out strenuous activity and noticed that my heart and his were beating in time. 

Ever since I was little I’ve had a fascination with the human heart and the sound it makes. I don’t know what it was, and the fact that I was lying here listening to Brian’s as it went a mile a minute as he smoked a cigarette and rubbed my shoulder softly and soothingly, made everything seem as if it were going in slow motion. Time had stopped for him and me in the brief moment when we lay oblivious the worst parts of life and the most awful things in the world. It was he and I, Soleil at my feet and his heart and my heart beating in time as if we were one. And I can think of nothing more romantic.


End file.
